


I Feel Fine

by LaLainaJ



Series: Make Some Noise [146]
Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Blow Jobs, Dirty Talk, F/M, Psychic Abilities, Smut, Tropes, Werewolf!Klaus!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-13
Updated: 2018-05-13
Packaged: 2019-05-06 06:31:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14636040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaLainaJ/pseuds/LaLainaJ
Summary: When Klaus is late Caroline worries. Their world, harsher than the old one, doesn't allow her not to.





	I Feel Fine

**I Feel Fine**

**(#** **94 Spit or Swallow + #199 Never Leave Me. A mish mash of tropes – we've got post-apocalypse, werewolf!Klaus, a superpower and a little hint o'mates. Title from The Beatles song. SMUT)**

Caroline's been pacing since nightfall. The sunset had caught her by surprise – she'd been in the garden, intent on eradicating every weed that dared threaten their food supply. She's been dumbfounded as the horizon turned to oranges and reads, had stood slowly to gawp, not because it was pretty, but because it was wrong. She barely noticed her aching back, the dirt streaking her clothes. All she could focus on was Klaus' absence.

The sun was going down. Klaus wasn't back. Two simple things, but they just don't mesh. He'd  _said_  he'd be home before it got dark, that the roads would be clear. Klaus is never wrong, and he  _never_  lies to her. Not even back when she'd first stumbled into his cabin, when he'd greeted her by name and handed her a glass of water and a chocolate Jell-O cup, sending alarm bells clanging in her brain. Caroline had been sure she was about to die. Probably in a super gruesome and unpleasant fashion. She'd kept her distance, considered which weapon she could draw the fastest. Had cursed herself for not being more cautious because didn't it just figure that a nutball stalker type would have cockroach caliber survival skills?

Klaus hadn't made any attempt to approach her, had turned his back and reached for pair of tongs telling her, "Your gun will jam. You haven't had time to take it apart and properly clean it, not since that scuffle back in Blue Ridge. Best use the knife, love."

She'd stood there gaping at him, appalled that he'd been following her for days and she hadn't had an inkling. "How did you even… What in the world…" she'd sputtered.

He'd glanced over his shoulder, seemingly amused at her inarticulateness. "I'm  _not_  a stalker. I haven't set eyes on you before today.  _You_  found me." He'd said something else, too low for her to hear.

"I thought this place was abandoned. It's in the middle of freaking nowhere and the road's overgrown."

"I bought this place precisely because it's miles from anywhere populous. A good investment, wouldn't you agree? What with the apocalypse having just passed."

Caroline had grudgingly admitted he'd had a point. Silently. "Well weren't you just the luckiest of boys?"

His shoulders had shaken, soft sounds of laughter drifting over to her. "Luck had little to do with it. It's a bit complex." Before Caroline had been able to ask what that meant Klaus had pulled a flatbread from the fire, tossing it onto a wooden board he'd had waiting. "I've plenty of non-perishable sweets, something I know you've not had much luck in scavenging. Perhaps you'll trade me for a bit of the salsa you have stashed in your pack?"

"See, that!" Caroline had exclaimed. "How do you  _know_  that?"

It had been hard not to be distracted by the delicious bread smell and her stomach had growled. Hot food had been hard to come by, Caroline finding it often too big of a risk to light a fire. Klaus had smiled, nodded at a chair, "Since it seems you've decided not to stab me why don't you have a seat?"

Two places had been set at the tiny wooden table. Caroline had hardly been surprised, given the weirdness of the interaction.

She'd considered her options as she'd stowed the Jell-O cup in her bag and taken a sip of the water. She'd listed her options, found them seriously lacking. She'd barely slept in days, constantly on the move. Coming upon a seemingly abandoned cabin had seemed like a blessing. If she made a run for it she wasn't sure she'd get far before dropping. The end of the world had tempered Caroline's natural optimism.

She'd taken the offered seat, intending to try her luck with the possibly crazy man. She'd decided that, if she was going to die, she might as well go out with a full stomach. She'd torn off a hunk of the flatbread, shoving it into her mouth, her feet planted so she could jump up if need be. Klaus hadn't commented on her lack of manners, had merely opened a jar of jam and offered it silently, explaining it was the last he'd scavenged but he was confident he could figure out how to make more.

That first night – laying in a bed, clean and not hungry for the first time in months, Caroline had wondered if perhaps she wasn't actually immune to the sickness that had taken down the vast majority of the general population. If maybe she was a late bloomer and was languishing in a gutter somewhere, feverish and out of her mind, her subconscious spinning a fairy tale to ease her pain.

The thought might have been morbid but it had made a whole lot more sense than the Klaus' wild claims.

Over their meal he'd explained that he  _saw_  things. Possibilities. That he wasn't psychic, per se, because every outcome was precariously balanced on all the choices that led up to it. He'd been seeing flashes of her for years, apparently, had known she was barreling in his direction for weeks. He'd described the flashes he'd seen of her journey through rural Georgia, described a few of the highlights with uncanny accuracy. Their first meeting hadn't always played out the same way. Sometimes, he'd informed her, she tried to shoot him and failed. Sometimes she stabbed him though he usually lived (though he hadn't explained  _that_ fully until the next full moon rolled around).

Probably smart. Because "by the way, werewolves are a thing" might have broken her, sent her running through the hills. As it was she hadn't believed he transformed once a month until he'd been on four paws right in front of her, his cold nose nudging her arm playfully.

That first night Klaus had told her that if she stayed, in the cabin with him, they'd survive.  _Thrive_. That it was the best option for both of them. Caroline hadn't known what to say.

He'd offered her a tour once she'd finished stuffing herself with Oreos, one that she'd been certain was meant to convince her. She'd been suspicious, of course, her hand often flitting to the knife at her belt, just in case. But in the end the piles of food in his cellar, the queen sized bed she'd have all to herself, the  _hot running water_ , had been far too sweet a deal to pass up.

Klaus' not-psychic powers had allowed him to prepare, to stock up and fortify before everything had gone to hell. Caroline had been willing to stay, on a trial basis, so long as he agreed to let her keep her weapons.

Klaus hadn't hesitated, had even directed her to the stash of gun oil and left her alone while he went out to check the perimeter.

She'd snooped as soon as his footsteps had faded away, of course. Rifled through every closet and cupboard, crawled under beds and into the attic. Had even yanked up the rugs to check for trap doors. When she hadn't found any dead bodies or creepy trophies she'd retreated to the bedroom he'd designated as hers with the gun cleaning kit and had jammed a chair under the doorknob for an extra layer of security.

She'd had a restless night, the tiniest noises leaving her tense and ready to spring. Luckily, there'd been  _actual_  coffee the next morning.

Drinking it had practically been a religious experience and Caroline's never regretted staying for a single second.

She's lost count of the number of circuits she's made of the cabin, her steps rapidly eating up the minimal amount of space. She's' nearly frantic, has almost convinced herself to say screw their low supply of gas and go after Klaus. She knows which direction he'd headed in, the towns he'd planned to hit. She should have insisted she go with him and put her to do list aside. She didn't  _need_  to plant the strawberry seedlings they'd found, she just wanted them.

Klaus had  _promised_  it would be an easy run and she'd believed him.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

When headlights flash through the windows Caroline doesn't even think about being cautious, nearly rips the screen door off its hinges in her haste to get outside. She sees him immediately, speeds up until she's almost running as relief floods her. Klaus is sliding out of the truck when she approaches, his hands raised in a gesture she knows is meant to be placating.

She doesn't need him to be sorry right now. He's alive, here. There's time to be pissed later.

Caroline doesn't slow down, crashes into Klaus and throws her arms around his shoulders. His back slams into the truck and he grunts at the impact but that doesn't stop him from gripping her just as urgently. She presses her face into his throat, reassured by the warmth of him, how solid he feels against her. It takes her a second to realize that his shirt is damp, that there's an unpleasant scent thick in the air – sweet and metallic and too familiar.

She rears back, running her hands down his chest, "Are you bleeding?" she asks, leaning close to try to get a better look.

Klaus doesn't push her hands away and her fingers snag on a hole in his shirt, high on the right side of his chest. "Not anymore," he assures her as she strokes the faint raised line that hadn't been there before. "It was just a flesh wound."

She pinches his side, punishment for the weak joke. "What happened? I thought things were supposed to go smooth and backup wasn't necessary?"

She can't see his face but the shifting of his weight is enough of a tell, revealing some unease. "You know the things I see aren't set in stone, sweetheart. Someone made a choice and it muddled the possibilities. Ended badly for them, if that makes you feel any better."

Maybe she's become a terrible person but yeah, it kind of does. She'd always been a little vindictive, at peace with her petty tendencies. The scale is different these days, consequences more brutal. Right around the time she'd moved into Klaus' bedroom she'd decided she'd pay just about any price to keep him with her. That it was her and him against the world.

She pushes the collar of his t-shirt aside, presses her lips to his new scar. "I hope you know you're never leaving me again."

She feels the laugh against her mouth, right before his hand winds into her hair and tugs her up. He's smiling softly, affection in his gaze. "Why, Caroline Forbes, I do believe you've grown fond of me."

He kisses her, cutting off her retort. Caroline opens her mouth against his, sucking his tongue eagerly. The heat between them flares quickly, as it always does. She crowds closer, yanks his shirt up, tearing her mouth from his long enough to get it off him, wanting to forget that he'd been stabbed today, that were he merely human he never would have made it home. She drops it in the dirt at their feet, pressing her hips into his and greedily tracing all of his newly bared skin. She uses her nails and Klaus shudders. She wishes she could see his face better because watching his eyes go smoky and his face strained with want is one of her favorite things in this world. Caroline surges up to taste him again, plastering herself as tightly to him as she can. Klaus groans, spinning them in one dizzying movement. He hitches one of her thighs over his hip, grinding his hardening cock into her.

She gasps, throwing her head back. She's growing slick, the seam of her shorts a delicious friction. She meets his steady every thrust with a roll of her hips. Caroline whines as Klaus' teeth dig into the curve of her shoulder, sucking the skin to soothe the sting. "Please tell me you found condoms," she manages unsteadily.

Klaus pauses, his mouth turning gentle, an apology, and Caroline's next moan is mournful. "Noooo."

"I didn't make it as far out as I'd intended," he says, sounding every bit as displeased as she is.

They'd run through their last two the previous night and Caroline knows finding more had been high on Klaus' priority list. She pushes on his shoulders, needing a little room so she can think. She knocks her head against the trucks window as she does the math. Intellectually she knows that sex without protection is never truly safe but she  _might_  have been willing to risk it, had she been at a more favorable part of her cycle.

Who knew 'I-was-terrified-you-were-dead-and-you're-not-and-I-need-you- _now'_  life affirming sex was an actual thing?

"We'll go out again tomorrow," Caroline declares. "Together."

Klaus opens his mouth and if he was planning on arguing he doesn't get the chance. Caroline slides down, dropping to her knees, her hands going straight for his belt. Klaus chokes out her name when her tongue flits over the taut muscles of his abs above his waistband. She hooks her fingers in his boxer briefs, peeling them away along with his jeans. She wraps her hand around his cock as soon as it's bared and strokes, pleased as he thickens against her palm. She presses her thumb to the head, rubbing over the leaking tip as she wets her lips. "Tonight we'll just hang out at third base, okay?"

His hands slip into her hair and she catches his jerky nod, just before she licks him, swirling her tongue to gather the precum beaded at the tip. His fingers twitch against the base of her skull and Caroline hums, taking the hint and sucking him deep, pressing her tongue to the underside of his cock and rubbing on the way down. Klaus sways on his feet, hisses out a curse. "So good, sweetheart. More."

Caroline sucks hard when she pulls back, not in the mood to tease. She strokes what she can't fit in her mouth, cupping his balls in her free hand and massaging. Klaus braces his hand on the truck, head tipping down, "Push your top down," he rasps. "Let me see you."

She complies, her cotton tank easy to shove to her waist. The cups of her bra get folded down and Caroline moans when she pinches her nipple, shifting restlessly as her own need ratchets up. Klaus makes a chiding noise, tugging on her hair. "Not yet. You can touch yourself later. After  _I've_  made you come. My fingers the first time, my teeth around your nipple. I'll build a fire while you're recovering, hmm? So you'll be warm while you grind your clit into my tongue."

She shivers, placing her hands on his thighs, silently agreeing to his terms before speeding up her motions. She manages to take him a little deeper and Klaus tenses, his legs going rigid under her palms. She knows he's close, lets her teeth drag along his length delicately, using her hand again, tightening her grip on the base of him, roughening her strokes. His cock is slick and she bobs up and down with practiced ease, anticipating his twitches and shivers. His head tips back and her name leaves him on a shout, right before he stiffens and pulses in her mouth. His taste is familiar and she swallows on instinct, Klaus' hand cups her face, his thumb feathering over the apple of her cheek as he pants above her. She pulls back slowly, letting his cock slip from her mouth. She presses a kiss to his hipbone and he offers her his hand, helping her to her feet. Her lips are wet but Klaus doesn't seem to mind, kissing her softly as his hands wander down her back. He slips his thigh between hers and Caroline rocks against it, seeking friction to relieve the ache she's been ignoring. Klaus' hands go to her breasts, toying with her nipples for a too scant second before he pulls back.

At least he looks regretful about it. "Inside," he says, head tipping towards the house.

She kisses him one last time, a peck on the lips that's more affectionate than anything. "Yes, sir," she teases, relishing his little groan. "How do you want me?"

The answer is swift, "On the table. Legs open, hands behind your back." That's one of his favorites. Hers too.

Caroline bites her lip, squirming against him. "Good plan," she says breathlessly.

She sees a flash of his teeth, white in the dark, and his voice is a hoarser when he replies, "If you want to come quickly you'll be naked before you cross the threshold."

She strips as she walks, swaying her hips as she mounts the stairs, pleased when he keeps pace, just as eager as she is.

Sometimes it's fun to push him, to test just how creative he can get with their limited supplies, but she wants to get an early start tomorrow.

They  _really_  need those condoms.


End file.
